Idiosyncrasy (Harry Styles AU)

5

Harry's Pov 

I stir, feeling every inch of my wretched body come to life again. It's an exasperating feeling after I was just going to try to kill myself last night. Knowing I tried, and somehow failed. The sun shines on my face, tickling my cheeks and awakening me.

Wait, I don't have a window in my bedroom.

I sit up straight, finding myself in a strange house.

"What the . . ."

I flinch as I find I have a roaring headache. It seems like I always have a hangover lately.

I throw my legs over the side of the couch I had been sleeping on, and trip ungracefully over my shoes as I start to wander around.

Where am I?

I walk down the hallway and open a squeaky door at the end of it.

Gasping, I find Bethany sound asleep in her bed.

Uhm . . . awkward . . .

I chew my lip. How did I end up here?

I don't want to wake her up; she's sleeping so peacefully, but I do have to get home.

I clear my throat gently, not daring to step into the room.

She stirs, and then sits up slowly.

"You're awake already, Harry?" she asks with a yawn. I nod expressionlessly. "Uhm . . . Where is the tube station from here? I won't ask you to get up and take me home . . . it's a Saturday."

I don't bother asking her anything about how I ended up here; I figure I will remember soon. I'm going to save the human contact.

She smiles sleepily. "Two blocks away south," she tells me.

I nod, wondering if I should thank her or not. I chew my lip again, deciding against it, then wave lightly. I walk back down the hall and put my shoes on, then open the front door quietly.
"Harry?"

I turn around and find Bethany standing behind the door in an oversized shirt and sweatpants.

I stop walking and look at her expectantly.

She hesitates. "Are you okay?" Her voice is as light as a feather. I'm a bit taken aback by her question . . . Did I tell her something I shouldn't have last night?

I finally nod. "Fine."

She looks as though she wants to say something else, but doesn't. Instead she waves at me. "Bye, Harry." I wave back and smile slightly, something that is completely against my nature, before she closes the door.

I know I should have at least said "thank you for putting me up for the night", but I couldn't make myself do it. I shouldn't have helped her with that guy Red . . . Now she feels like she owes me. I hate it when people think they owe me something. It gives them a way into my life. I shake my head, making my way down to the lobby.

I hope she doesn't think that we're friends now, because we're far from it. I can't be friends with anyone. I can't lose someone else close to me. It'll be too much.

Soon, I'm on my way back home, sitting in a corner all by myself. I don't want human contact.
My therapist says that I should start trying to make some friends, or at least talk to someone. But she doesn't understand how much pain I've been through, or the pure hate I have for humanity.

I shut my eyes, trying to block out the memories that cloud my mind. It's just like it happened yesterday.

A kid is sitting next to his mum down from me. He looks normal, happy. I wonder how long it's been since I was like that.

He looks up and meets my eyes. I quickly look away, and hear him asking his mum why "that creepy man was staring at me".

When I finally arrive home, I shower and feed my pregnant cat Whiskers. She's the closest thing to a friend I've had for five years.

I scratch her behind her ears and mumble soothing things to her. She gets freaked out and hides when I get violent, sometimes disappearing for days. I feel guilty for leaving her here all by herself.

"How's my mamma doing?" I whisper with a smile at my kitty. She purrs in response, brushing against my leg. She leaves a few black hairs on my jeans, but I don't mind.

Picking Whiskers up, I wander to the couch to think.

Last night I remember getting drunk out of my mind, then decided I was done living, and made my way down the stairs to my car. I was going to drive to the bridge. I was going to drown myself.

A few bits and pieces begin to come back to my memory, some of Bethany driving me to her place.

I still don't understand why she took me to her place. I can take care of myself.

I slowly begin to drift off again, tired from my hangover and lack of sleep from the entire week.

I just want to sleep forever.

Sleep and never wake up.

__________________________________________________________________________

"Damnit," I mutter through clenched teeth, rolling over as my phone blares on the coffee table beside me.

I snatch it up with a growl. It's probably my damn therapist. She's the only one I know who will call me. Actually that's the reason I even have a phone.

I squint at the caller ID anyway, and then frown when I discover it's an unknown number.

I press the answer button, putting the phone to my ear. "Hello?" I mumble, rolling back over.

"Harry? Harry Styles?"

I freeze at the familiar voice. Adrenalin pumps through my veins, but I feel like I can't move; I'm in shock.

Memories flood over me, overwhelming me until I nearly drop the phone.

"Hello?" the voice on the other end asks again.

"D-dad?" My voice is pitifully quiet.

"Harry . . . It's been a long time. Did you uh . . . get my letter?"

I swallow thickly, knowing I should just hang up. He's the reason that it happened. He's the reason I'm so messed up. But the familiarity of his voice calms me in an odd way, and something deep inside me wants to keep talking to my father.

"Yeah. Yeah I did," I whisper.

There's an uncomfortable pause.

"I'm really sorry about-"

I can't listen to his "I'm sorry about what happened" speech. I'm in enough pain as it is.

"Don't you dare tell me you're sorry unless you were there when it happened and you can't go to sleep at night because the screaming is engraved in your mind? Because you weren't, and you won't ever understand because it's your fault it all happened," I spit, tears of anger blinding me.

It's quiet for the longest time; the only sound in this bloody lonely flat is my breathing. For a moment I think he might have hung up, but he speaks again.

"Don't shut me out."

I laugh dryly. "Too late."

Then I hang up. I end the call.

I've shut everyone out. He's no different than the others.

Notes

Sorry this is so short and boring . . . it picks up soon